io6 
WILD WINGS 
bands of cattle. Having done this, we were on the edge of 
the swampy forest, with its giant cypresses, which, rising 
boldly from the prairie level, gave the effect of a long range 
of hills, stretching away, as we were told, some forty miles. 
The men had described the location of the roost, but we were 
unable to reach it. It was several miles farther, and we had 
all we could do in a day to investigate the Wood and White 
Ibises, Barred Owls, Florida Black Ducks, and other interest¬ 
ing birds. 
When we emerged, at length, and started up the band of 
gluttonous buzzards, we watched to see whether they would 
not fly toward their rookery. All they did was to extend 
their great ragged pinions, and, after the first few flaps, let 
the ascending current of heated air do the rest. Lazily they 
wheeled high overhead on motionless wings, waiting for us 
to withdraw. No doubt they finally went back, but only in 
their own good time, when the shadows of the cypresses had 
grown long and sombre. 
It was quite near this spot that we came upon the nest of 
a Wild Turkey, the only one I had ever seen. Under a low 
scrub palmetto, on the edge of the prairie near the forest, the 
bird had scratched out a slight hollow, lined it with grass, and 
deposited a dozen large speckled eggs. These had hatched, 
and the shells, neatly cracked in halves, some of the pieces 
telescoped, were lying there. Eggs are just the sort of special 
treat that buzzards enjoy. VTry likely Turkey Buzzard and 
turkey had matched wits and patience, but the owner of the 
nest had won, so the scavengers were forced to attend more 
strictly to business and search out death among the cattle 
herds or the bands of razor-backed hogs — hateful, grizzled 
monsters that were ever ready for intrusion. 
If the choice must be between buzzards and hogs as scav¬ 
engers, give me the buzzard. He has at least a tithe of 
